


Little Warrior

by journeycat



Series: The Cavall Clan [1]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Nudity, Pregnancy, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeycat/pseuds/journeycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kel and Wyldon contemplate her third pregnancy on the hottest day of summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Warrior

“This heat,” Wyldon mumbled into his pillow, “is going to be the death of me.”

Old Jump whuffed his agreement from the foot of the bed.

Keladry didn’t even have the energy to look at him. She already knew what she would see, anyway: her naked husband laying on his stomach, sweat beading along his spine and trickling from his body to soak the sheets under him. If she reached over, she could trace the scars on the hard planes of his back, maybe brush her hand further down and inflame him enough that he would make love to her—her libido was a thing of awe these days.

But just the thought of having sex in this heat was enough to tire her out.

The baby kicked restlessly, as though to chastise its mother for her laziness. Kel patted her bare belly, so huge now that it loomed before her like a mountainous womb. It was rather repulsive. _This is going to be the fattest baby in history_ , she thought gloomily. _Neal will never let me live it down_.

“I don’t want a fat baby,” she said out loud.

Wyldon made a noise in his pillow that sounded like a very confused laugh, and then lifted his head to blink at her. “I swear,” he said, “you get stranger with every pregnancy.”

It surprised a laugh out of her. “I do not.”

He smiled at her, and then dropped his head back onto his pillow. This was the man who slaved through rain and hail and snow, through whatever weather the gods saw fit to throw at them, and she liked to consider herself a hard worker—and yet they were both sprawled across their bed like sluggards. But who could blame them, really? In her lifetime, she had never experienced a heat wave such as this, and Wyldon said he couldn’t remember being this hot since he was just a boy.

Perspiration puddled in the cleft between her swollen breasts. She felt sticky, unclean; getting sweaty during some kind of weapons practice was one thing, but getting sweaty when just laying in bed was quite another.

“At least the babies are quiet,” Kel sighed.

Wyldon propped his head up on an elbow to look at her. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. “The babies,” he said dryly, “happen to be five and two, respectively. They’re hardly babies anymore.”

She eyed him balefully. “They’re still in the nursery,” she told him. “So they’re still babies.”

“I would think you’d want to at least want one to grow up,” he teased. “We’re having another one any day now.”

“Any second,” she corrected.

He reached out a hand and placed it on her huge belly. In answer, the baby kicked viciously. The hard taut skin rippled eerily in echo to its abuse, quivering every time the baby pushed against the womb. Wyldon loved it, the way he could see his child’s movements, but something about it made her queasy. Lance had ever been a still baby; many times she had gone fearfully to Baird, who assured her that baby in her womb was still alive and healthy, just peaceful and imperturbable, as he was in life. Cal had been exceptionally uncomfortable, curled so low in her stomach that she thought her spine would collapse backwards and he had kept her up all night with his constant restlessness, but his movements could only be felt from the inside and not seen from the outside.

This one, though—this one was so full of energy Kel thought she would scream. “I want it to come out now,” she said. Even to her, her voice sounded petulant, but she was hot and heavily pregnant, and she thought she had a right to her moods. “It’s two weeks late.”

“You can’t rush a baby who doesn’t want to come,” Wyldon said wisely. “It’s just not ready to face the world yet.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m just being grumpy, I suppose.”

He brushed her sticky hair away from her brow. “You’re allowed to,” he told her kindly. “Pregnant women endure a strength training that pages never have to. I don’t envy you.”

She shifted her weight to make herself more comfortable. He returned his hand to her belly, his large, strong hands splayed across an expanse of skin that bore the marks of three pregnancies. She had stretch marks to spare, but she was lucky. Most of hers vanished after birth. Margarry actually wept over the many she had—even though Owen said quizzically time and time again that he didn’t even notice them; battle scars, he called them, which made Kel love him even more.

“I was thinking about names,” Wyldon said pensively. “We haven’t really decided on one yet.”

Kel rolled over on her side to look at him better, folding her hands under her head. “We never do,” she said, amused. “Remember? We dithered over names for the whole nine months for both Lance and Cal, and never decided until they were born.”

“True,” he admitted. “But maybe we can actually prepare this time around. Great gods, he’s two weeks late—he’s begging us to name him before he’s born.”

“Him?” she said archly. “So convinced I’m going to have a son?”

He had the grace to flush. “Slip of the tongue. You’ve given me two sons when I never expected any. I think I just assumed you’ll give me sons like Vivenne gave me daughters.”

“Gods, I hope not. I couldn’t handle a brood of boys.”

Wyldon chuckled. “You’ve handled your brood of year-mates since you were ten. I dare say you can handle a couple of sons. I hope this one is a boy, at any rate—it’s so ferocious I’d be terrified if it was a girl.”

Kel giggled and kissed him sweetly. He tasted of salt and husband.

Their daughter was born red-faced and howling indignantly a week later, and Neal declared her the loudest hellion he ever had the dubious fortune of meeting.


End file.
